


even after all this time (it lights the whole sky)

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Food, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Napping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: Evgeni wants to do things for Sid. He likes to see Sidney happy.





	even after all this time (it lights the whole sky)

**Author's Note:**

> A softer sequel to [of under me you so quite new](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10691133), but can be read as a standalone.
> 
>  
> 
> [x](http://goodnightpuckbunny.tumblr.com/post/159884728654/hi-i-just-finished-reading-of-under-me-you-quite)
> 
>  
> 
> ***WORK OF FICTION***

Evgeni comes through the front door as quietly as he can, stepping a specific path around the squeaky panels of the hardwood floors in socked feet, reluctant to interrupt the sacred peace that has settled about the house. He puts his box into the refrigerator and stops for a moment to water the peace lily on the counter. The crumbs left from a hasty breakfast get swept into the bin, and the jam returned to the cupboard. Then he ascends the stairs. He’s not really here to do chores.

On certain spring afternoons, sunlight pools over the sheets in Sidney’s master bedroom. That’s where Evgeni can find Sidney napping, stripped down to inviting bareness. Evgeni sheds layers until he’s in just a t-shirt and boxers, and leaves everything in a heap on the carpet, clothes and worries both.

Sidney stirs when Evgeni crawls across the bed, but quiets when Evgeni murmurs his greeting and slides his palm over sun-warm skin. He curls in towards Evgeni’s body and drifts back to sleep. Evgeni follows right along after him.

Word goes around that Sid is a complicated guy—difficult to please, a man who demands impossible perfections, and perplexing at the least. The truth is that Sidney asks for practically nothing. He’s determined to be unobtrusive. He thinks that he’s putting a strain on those around him by making any kind of request outside of hockey. Except that there’s a second truth that maybe only Evgeni knows, and it’s that Sidney loves to be pampered and cared for. The truth is that Evgeni has learned to enjoy the flushed, pleased smile he receives when he gives Sidney what he needs. He loves to be the man who can lift the weight from Sidney’s shoulders.

Before, when Evgeni unknowingly did something that Sidney was reluctant to ask for—sharing the extra bacon from his breakfast plate or hailing a cab when Sidney was too tired from a night out—he’d be gifted with a bashful little smile and a quiet, “Thanks, G.” And those were just things that he'd do for any friend. Now that they’re seeing each other, Evgeni really puts the effort in because what he gets in exchange for his thoughtfulness is ruddy cheeks and delighted laughter and quick hot kisses to the corner of his mouth. He’s a big fan.

When Evgeni awakes, they’re no longer dozing in a cozy square of light. He's hot under his shirt where he's curled around Sidney, but his legs are cold. He can hear rain pelting the roof instead and the sun which filters through the dark grey clouds makes it hard to tell what time it is, but he thinks it might be early evening. He unwraps himself from Sidney and reaches for the duvet that’s haphazardly shoved to the bottom of the bed. Sidney makes a discontented noise and rolls onto his back, starting to wake up as well, but Evgeni pulls the blanket up around them and cocoons the two of them with warmth once more.

“Hey,” Sid says, half yawning, stretching a little and arching his back. Evgeni runs a hand over his stomach, and Sid giggles and squirms away from the contact, and then sighs. “I had a good nap.”

“Bet you did,” Evgeni replies. He wraps his limbs around Sid and arranges their bodies for maximum post-nap snuggling comfort.

Sidney sighs again, and tucks his head underneath Evgeni’s, resting the cold tip of his nose against his collarbone. Evgeni sweeps his thumb against Sid’s shoulder blade. They lay like that for long enough—listening to their matched, even breaths and the arrhythmic patter of the rain muted by the duvet and the shelter of the house—that Evgeni is almost convinced that Sid has gone back to sleep. It hasn’t been the most productive of afternoons off, but he doesn’t mind sleeping through most of it. They both need to store up as much rest as they can.

“We should probably get out of bed,” Sidney says, and it sounds like a half-complaint. “Ugh, and I was going to wash the car today. And go for a run. Dumb rain, ruining all my plans.”

Evgeni spares a moment for the thought of Sidney soaping down his awful, practical car—perhaps in a white t-shirt and jeans—and another moment to think about making out in the drive-thru wash at the gas station. “Have quiet night instead. No big chores. What you want for dinner?”

“There’s salmon I took out of the freezer this morning. It would have been great to put it on the grill, but I can do it in the oven instead.”

“Little potatoes?” Evgeni asks.

“Yeah. Asparagus, some tomatoes on the side,” he adds. “Wine or beer?”

“Wine.” Evgeni remembers his box downstairs. “Some white, with sparkles.”

“Geno,” Sid admonishes, and Evgeni kisses the shell of his ear just to feel his fingers tighten their hold on his waist. “Regular white, not sparkling. I don’t want to have to finish off the whole bottle.”

Sidney extracts himself from their cozy space on the bed and stands to rummage through his dresser. It usually takes him a long time to get out of bed, but once he’s up, he’s up. Evgeni can rise as soon as his alarm clock goes in the morning, but then drags himself around the house for sometimes hours before he can deal with the day. Naps are a little different. Naps with Sid are a _lot_ different. He could stay ensconced in the luxury of Sidney’s sleepy closeness forever.

Sid finds sweatpants and zips a Pens hoodie over his chest. He sits back onto the bed to put socks on, always more likely to put on layers than turn up the heat.

Evgeni follows Sidney downstairs a good five minutes later after he gets dressed once more. He meanders around the main floor a bit to dispel some leftover energy from optional skate that morning. He thinks about how likely it’ll be that he can convince Sid to watch a movie with him after dinner when they’ve got a game tomorrow and he won’t want to stay up late. He thinks about his parents flying into town in a few weeks. He thinks about tearing through tomorrow's defense and visualizes as many kinds of goals as he can. Outside the big windows which lead off the kitchen and into the backyard, Evgeni can see the rain splatter against the deck. He can also see it soaking Sidney while he tries to wrangle a cover on top of the barbecue, yelping a string of profanity.

He finds some clean towels in the laundry room, still folded where he left them on Sunday. He pulls the biggest beige towel from the stack, and goes back to the kitchen to find Sid dripping on the slate tiles.

“Most stupid,” Evgeni complains, and tucks Sidney into the towel in his arms. “No jacket?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” His voice gets muffled into the towel and Evgeni’s shoulder. Sidney looks up at him, with raindrops on his face and an expression somewhere between begrudgingly amused and wet cat.

Evgeni wipes the soaked curls from his forehead and kisses his mouth. “Don’t catch cold.”

“You’re right.” Sidney steps out from his embrace and struggles out of his soggy clothes. They slap wetly against the floor. “Maybe I should just be naked all night. Clearly the day isn’t meant for being dressed.”

“I like. But being naked not so good for cook dinner.”

“Yeah,” Sidney agrees. He lets Evgeni kiss him for a minute, while Evgeni’s hands slip lower down his back, almost finding purchase on his favourite prize. But then Sidney steps away, wraps himself up in the towel, and goes back up the steps to his room. Evgeni gathers his wet clothes and puts them into the washing machine to spin. At this rate, if Sidney keeps taking his clothes off, they’re never going to get their dinner plans. He kind of wants McDonald’s, or maybe the familiarity of Pittsburgh’s takeout menu selection, but he wants Sidney’s earnest attempts at home-cooked meals more. Even if it means less time for other activities.

When Sidney returns, Evgeni helps him with prep. While Sidney dresses the salmon with lemon and herbs, he scrubs a couple handfuls of the tiny potatoes over the sink. This time it seems that Sidney has decided to get properly clothed in a green sweater and jeans. He’s got a plaid dishcloth slung over one shoulder and he keeps up a steady chatter about getting through the other team’s defenses tomorrow. Evgeni snaps the asparagus into a pot to steam for later while Sidney takes his time, stopping every now and then to draw play diagrams in the air with his clever hands. His damp dark hair curls up sweetly at the nape of his neck.

Once he’s put the salmon and the potatoes in the oven, Evgeni holds Sid’s hips and crowds him against the counter.

“Geno,” Sidney sighs happily, hands coming up to cup Evgeni’s shoulders. He tips his head back to expose his neck, and Evgeni runs his lips up against his pulse point just to hear the litany of contented noises that Sid makes unbidden when Evgeni is gentle. “Yes, please.”

 Evgeni rucks up the emerald hem of Sidney’s sweater a few inches so he can trace his fingers along the smooth circumference of his stomach. If he’s not careful, Sidney will giggle and jerk away, ticklish. That in itself is a reward, but it’s not what he wants at this moment. Instead he rubs circles on Sidney’s hips with enough pressure to be pleasurable for what seems like both minutes and hours, until he’s pliable and starting to shift in anticipation.

He lips at Sidney’s jaw, and his ear, and over his cheekbone, still soft and slow. It’s best if he can drag this out of Sidney before he can get demanding in his desperation. He likes when Sidney’s relaxed and willing because he’s usually so keyed up, especially this time of year. It takes a long time to get there, but the result is absolutely worth it. The button of Sidney’s jeans is thumbed open without comment, except when Evgeni tips his fingers beneath the waistband—

“Fuck, Sid,” he drops his head to Sidney’s shoulder.

He’s not wearing any underwear.

Sidney smirks against his temple, and damn if Evgeni hasn’t been played as much as he was trying to play Sidney. “What’s wrong, _Zhenya_?”  Evgeni curses and brings their hips together with his hands on Sidney's ass. He kisses Sidney with more heat before. He won’t take long if Sid starts purring his name in Russian like that, teasing him.

But then the timer on the oven rings and Evgeni startles. He groans as Sidney pushes him away to get back to dinner preparations. “Come on, Sid, let me—“

“Later,” Sidney says, tugging on his black oven mits and flapping them at Evgeni, penguin-like. “Go get the wine.”

“No fun, Sidney Crosby.” He descends the stairs to the wine cellar in the basement.

“And don’t get the sparkling!”

Dinner is an exercise in focus for Evgeni. The whole time he’s distracted thinking about Sidney, naked under his jeans, easy access beneath a layer of denim in the opposite chair. It doesn’t help that Sidney has hooked their ankles together and periodically slides the top of his foot up Evgeni’s calf. For the duration of the meal, Evgeni is a shit conversationalist. If Sidney is spilling secrets across the table, he’s completely oblivious.

The wine he picked is winding its lazy way through his bloodstream, giving his body a warmth and tenderness that will last through the evening. He almost lets his eyes slip shut more than once, despite the nap. The salmon is good. He barely tastes it.

It’s only when he’s loading the dishes into the washer and Sidney has retired to the living room that he remembers the box.

He puts its contents on a plate and brings it with a fork out of the kitchen. Even without the lights on low, Evgeni watches Sidney flushing as he sees it: a heaping decadent slice of cheesecake, drizzled with chocolate and strawberry.

“Aw, Geno, I can’t eat that.” He’s got the familiar dessert-greed in his eyes, though. Evgeni isn’t fooled.

“I won’t tell trainers,” he sits down next to Sid and is gratified when Sidney’s legs wiggle up and over his lap to get comfortable. “It’s our secret. You know you want.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

Evgeni scoops the tip off the cheesecake and holds it up for Sidney, who leans forward and wraps his mouth around the fork. “I’m best.”

He hand-feeds the cheesecake to Sidney, delighted by the happy sounds Sidney probably doesn’t know he’s making. Sidney will always get dessert when the team goes out for dinner, but it’s a rare time when he has baked goods stored up in his house. Years ago Evgeni found half a bag of M&M cookies on Sidney’s coffee table. Sidney, red-faced, had squirreled them away before Evgeni could even think to ask. As if anyone could think that Sidney doesn't deserve his rewards.

More than half the slice is gone before Sidney thinks to ask if Evgeni wants any. “I’m get my sweets later,” he replies.

Sidney gives him a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He slowly licks the creamy cake from the fork without breaking eye contact, but his expression goes from sly to satisfied as he finishes the bite. He’s really enjoying it.

Sometimes Evgeni wonders what miracles he’s done to get days like these when he already has everything he could have ever asked for.

When the cheesecake is polished off and Evgeni puts the empty plate out of reach, Sidney leans back languidly against the couch, eyes half-lidded. “That was probably too much. I should work it off now.”

“Oh, I know some exercises.”

Sidney looks at him. “Cardio?”

“Yes, good cardio.”

“Work up a sweat?”

“I hope so.”

Evgeni leans into Sidney’s space and kisses him. His lips taste like strawberry glaze and he’s pliant all over. His hair is tangled from the rain. His cheeks are flushed. Evgeni slides down his body, unwilling to move up and away, and rucks the green sweater until it gets stuck under Sidney’s arms. He hums and then blows a raspberry onto Sidney's middle.

“Geno!” Sidney yelps, and pushes the flat of his palm against Evgeni’s forehead. “Be nice.” There’s mirth in his eyes, even when Evgeni runs a light touch down his sides and Sidney knees him in the ribs.

“I’m most nice.” Evgeni proves his point by licking a stripe from the top of Sid’s jeans to the dip of his belly button, and Sidney’s squirming turns to sighs. Evgeni tongues at Sidney’s stomach while he pops the button on his jeans once more and tugs the zipper down. They work together to get Sidney’s pants shucked to his knees, but then Evgeni gets impatient and wraps his hand around Sidney’s cock.

Sid sucks in a shaky breath. “Yeah, yes. Please.”

The _hurry_ is implied in his tone, but Evgeni has no such intention. He licks his palm because Sidney’s cock is a little tacky from the foreplay before dinner and only half-hard. He keeps his movements even and slow. He knows how to get Sidney there. He has dreams about laying Sidney out for hours and working him up as slow as he can stand it. “Next time we have time off, we can—“

“ _Geno_ ,” Sidney snaps, “Enough teasing.”

Evgeni tightens his grip and twists a little, how Sid likes. He mouths at his balls, tongues the crease where his thighs meet, kisses the crown of his cock. His own hips, he thrusts against the couch, a little heedless of finesse. He likes it when Sidney can sprawl on the bed, shamelessly rubbing his body over the sheets and begging, demanding. He also likes Sidney on this couch, legs and arms trembling with the effort to keep from tumbling them both off the side. He loves the sounds Sidney makes—breathy moans and rhythmic grunts the closer he gets.

It doesn’t take long at all for Sidney’s muscles to flex with his hard-earned strength and come all over himself and Evgeni’s hand. Then he seems to melt, blissed. His smile is a kind of goofy and Evgeni leans up to kiss the uneven curve of it.

He gets his own cock out of his pants and jerks it until his own come adds to the mess on Sidney’s torso. It splatters onto Sidney’s stomach and chest, and when Evgeni collapses half on top of him, he can’t help but smear everything around with his fingers. Sidney nuzzles him and his sighs fan over Evgeni’s neck. He shivers in the afterglow.

They lie there for a while, until things get gross. Sidney pushes him up and off the couch with a grunt.

Sidney stands, hitches his pants up a little, and waddles back into the kitchen. Evgeni follows after him and watches as he wipes himself off with a wet paper towel. “Okay,” he says as he puts his clothes back in order, “time for you to go home.”

“Yes,” Evgeni agrees. He likes to spend the night, but he doesn’t like hanging around Sidney’s pregame rituals the next morning. Watching Sidney scarf down a plate of plain spaghetti at ten a.m. on a matinee day with reluctant determination was enough to kill the romance for half a week. He’s always admired Sidney’s commitment to hockey above anything else, but his game-day dietary habits have never been sexy. Plus, Evgeni has his own rituals to take care of.

Sidney walks with him to the door. “Thanks for the cheesecake.”

“And my good company?” Evgeni gets a peck on the lips in reply, and he deepens it as much as he can before Sidney pulls away.

“Get out of here.” He looks really good, tousled and soft and glowing.  Evgeni almost thinks fuck the rituals; he just wants to herd Sidney into bed. It’s not too late, really. He could always leave in the early morning instead.

“I love you,” he says in Russian, meaning the way they fit together and the way Evgeni never wants to be apart.

Sidney smiles. “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Suggestions? [I'm here for you.](http://goodnightpuckbunny.tumblr.com)


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